


you're what I couldn't find

by areyoumarriedriver



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-01
Updated: 2013-03-01
Packaged: 2017-12-03 23:01:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/703628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/areyoumarriedriver/pseuds/areyoumarriedriver
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She smoothes a hand down over his chest, until it stills, directly between his heartbeats. Her own hearts always seem to beat a little faster in response.  She’s been coming here for almost two years now – and he’s been here for three years before that. The Sisters of the Infinite Schism had a policy for comatose patients however – so long as there was brain activity, they would not remove him from life support.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you're what I couldn't find

**Author's Note:**

  * For [savvyliterate](https://archiveofourown.org/users/savvyliterate/gifts).



> Happy birthday Megs! At least your brother didn't get you THIS. lol.

**_you’re what I couldn’t find_ **

“Dr. Song!” the nurse greets her warmly and River looks up with a smile as she bustles across the room, her habit rustling as she adjusts the medication pump next to the bed, and checks the vitals of the man lying in it. “No change today, hmm?”  She frowns – well, as well as a feline species can really – and glances at River, shaking her head.

River nods, wondering what this nurse assumes about her. The nurse squeezes her shoulder as she walks by, before she leaves the room in silence once more, only the humming of support machines and dripping on medical IVs left in her wake.

“Well sweetie, I think half the nursing staff is convinced that I’m your wife, or girlfriend, or something equally ridiculous,” she laughs softly as she puts her journal down on the bedside table. “The truth is far stranger than the fiction I think. Of course it would get a whole lot more dramatic if you’d just wake _up_ , honey.” She stands and moves to the side of the bed, her eyes tracing his features. Long sharp nose, close cropped hair – his face looks weathered. She doesn’t know what colour his eyes are – he’s never given her the pleasure.

She smoothes a hand down over his chest, until it stills, directly between his heartbeats. Her own hearts always seem to beat a little faster in response.  She’s been coming here for almost two years now – and he’s been here for three years before that. The Sisters of the Infinite Schism had a policy for comatose patients however – so long as there was brain activity, they would not remove him from life support. And he’d made small improvements over the years, really. The latest and greatest had been four months ago when he finally started breathing on his own. River had been  in a state that day, and she would never ever tell the doctors and nurses how she’d slipped him regeneration energy that day.

The practice had been forbidden, before the fall of Gallifrey. But she’d never been very good at following rules – obviously – and what was one more broken? Just one.

In the time since she’s been sorely tempted to try again. It helped him improve, but she’s not sure she can reproduce the effort. Regeneration is so tricky – it’s as liable to work as not. Just a trick – not everyone managed it.

“I just really need you to wake up, sweetie,” she whispers to his still form. “Come now, I don’t even know your name.” Her hand reaches up, brushing across his hair, his hair tickling her palm as she stares down at him. “Are you going to make me wait forever? Hard-to-get, I see how it is,” she teases gently.

She’s always talked to him – right from the start. She likes to think he can hear her.

She likes to think he knows.

_~*~*~*~_

_She is hopelessly lost – the entire damn hospital (and she hates hospitals. The smell. The quiet. Why can’t she just die and regenerate? It’s a great form of health insurance!) is a maze of winding corridors and wrong floors and the University’s insurance form had said 2204, but she was having the most_ terrible _luck finding it. “God damn it,” she mutters as she searches the hallways – you’d think for a hospital this big they’d at least have signs posted. “Inefficient, stupid buildings. Four thousand years ago they had signs – what’s so wrong with signs?” She halts at a terminal on the wall and glares at it._

_“Signs are an outdated, overlooked use of wall space. Studies in 3489 by leading psychologist Hans Gambert concluded that wall space in medical facilities was best utilized by framed art, soothing in wall speakers that played music and-”_

_“It wasn’t an actual question,” she snaps at the terminal and the interface ceases to speak. “The wonders of technology. Computer, where is room 2204 located?”_

_“Room 2204 is located down corridor H-7, in the blue block.” The interface responds calmly and she glares at it. Like she knows where any of those things are._

_“Can you show me a map?” she asks patiently and the display lights up with a complex route. She is at least four floors above where she should be. “Bloody perfect. Computer, can you stream the map to my communicator?” She digs in her purse for her handheld, pulling it out with a sigh._

_“Transfer of map complete.”_

_“Thank you,” she turns her communicator on – technically against the rules in the hospital, but how much equipment can it affect, really? She follows the convoluted instructions on the map – stairs? Really? Are there no lifts? “I think that interface was a bit peeved that I interrupted its history lesson,” she laughs to herself when she finally reaches the corridor she’s meant to be in._

_It looks like a patient wing – which is ridiculous, she was specifically told by the harridan in HR at the University that she had to complete a medical for insurance purposes. She hated medicals, because it was always ‘oh two hearts’ and ‘which species’ and then the inevitable shocked face when they realised._

_She opens the door to room 2204, only to slide to a complete halt. It is a patient room – a private one. Fortunately the man inside is dead to the world, “Well hopefully not really dead,” River mutters as she flicks through her communications screen. “Oh shit, it was 4402! Dammit!”_

_She heaves a sigh and then freezes, her whole body going cold and then hot again. Her eyes snap to the man on the bed and her mouth goes dry as she moves over to it. “No, no – you can’t be. They’re all dead!”_

_She walks right up to the side, barely taking any notice of his face or appearance, instead her hands go directly to his chest and she nearly sobs at the feel of two solid heart beats under her palms. She leans in, her face right by his neck and she inhales the scent of time and the vortex and huon energy and a sob does escape her at that._

_She presses her face into his chest and cries; it has been well on four hundred years since she was exiled. And when she’d finally discovered the Time War and all that had occurred after – it was one thing to be forced to leave your home for breaking the rules. It was quite another to discover it had been destroyed all together. “Miss, are you alright?” a timid voice issues from behind her and River looks up, her eyes bright and tears still dripping down her face._

_“I’m – I’m_ wonderful _,” she confesses, looking back down at the still man. “I can’t believe you’re_ here _.”_

_Another Timelord._

_“I thought I was alone,” she confesses to him, before she smiles brilliantly. “Hello, sweetie.”_

_~*~*~*~_

They’d all somehow assumed she was… intimately acquainted with him. And since they were all suddenly explaining how he’d arrived, his condition, the machine housed in their storage facilities (a TARDIS – he had a _TARDIS_!) she’d not exactly corrected their assumption.

She’d eventually found her way to her medical appointment, extremely late. And she’d visited him as often as she could after that. It was never any sort of regular schedule – between assisting professors and leading archaeological digs with students, her schedule at the University of New New York was hardly static – but she came when she could.

She’s studied his charts, his face, talked to him, drawn him, tried to research him as well as she could – but the hospital had no name listed for him. ( _John Smith_ , she’d answered when asked) She had no way of discovering who he was – all she knew was that he was a Timelord, and he’d somehow escaped the Time War.

“Would you wake up for an apple?” she asks him this question a lot, always with a different item tagged on the end – she’s tried everything, really. She’s researched his condition, explained what limited amounts of knowledge she had left about Gallifreyan physiology to the doctors in the hopes that they could find a new treatment.

She sighs softly and picks at the blanket over his legs. “I had a dream about you last night. You cried because you thought you were alone too.  You were wearing leather – it looked good on you, sweetie.” Her dream had certainly gotten a bit more racy than that, but in her defence it has been _ages_ since her last date. Over half a year ago, at least. She traces the hand lying on the covers idly, before she drops a kiss to it.

“I wish you’d wake up, honey,” she stares at him for a moment before she heaves another sigh. “I’m going away for a little while again. Not just yet – but there’s an excavation – it’s _really_ exciting. No one’s been to the site in over a hundred years. Loads of paperwork to do first, so  you have two weeks to wake up so you can give me a kiss goodbye,” she teases again, and he is still. “Ah well. Worth a try right?” she stands, leaning over him and pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Sleep well, sweetie.”

_~*~*~*~_

_She’s dying._

_Well, but she can fix that. Easy as pie – it hurts but she can fix it. Any other time it’s barely been a thought – new face, new name, new planet, new start. A change in every sense of the word._

_Except._

_Except the hospital staff knows this face and she can’t leave him. She can’t – the mere thought of it is unsupportable. What if he wakes up, and pops off in his TARDIS and she never ever finds him again? No. It’s simply not to be borne._

_She’s not sure when she thinks of the transfer as an option. Somewhere in the fifteen minutes since she got mugged in an alley way (so utterly cliché in this town honestly). If only she’d had her plasma blaster on her, but she was on her way to visit him, and the hospital had a strict zero tolerance policy for weapons. The mugger had taken her money, her communicator, even her spare Vortex manipulator, but River had kept her journal. It had all of her research on him, all of her information on Gallifrey, sketches from the past two years, leads she’d followed to dead ends and possible pieces of information that might all make sense one day._

_She’d refused to hand it over and had gotten stabbed for her efforts._

_Honestly._

_So somewhere along the ten block walk to the hospital, she’d remembered the rule about transfer of energy – and her theoretical physiology course at the Academy, hundreds of years ago. He wouldn’t even know. He could handle it – and she would be healed. This face, this place, no change._

_“I don’t want to go,” she whispers to him as she sits in his room, finally lifting her black coat from where she’d held it, pressed to her side to cover the wound. Her skin felt like it was on fire, as energy burned through her. “Not until I meet you, sweetie.”_

_She leans against his bed – her weight sagging against the mattress as her legs failed to support her. She looks at his hand, his neck, his cheek – where to do it. “Ah well, you only live once right?” she laughs at that and shakes her head. “Metaphorically speaking, of course,” her hands shake as she pulls the oxygen mask from his face, his skin glowing a warm yellow in the reflected light. “Just once,” she whispers as she leans against him heavily and presses her mouth to his. His lips are cool and she feels like it manages to fight back the fire within her as she kisses him and unleashes her energy into him. Surprisingly, he takes it all. She can feel herself heal – and oh god it hurts – but not in the same way changing does._

_When she sits back, she collapses against his chest, her hands moving to her stomach to feel the wholly new skin there. The fire is extinguished and she sighs in relief. The sound of alarms finally penetrate her brain and she sits up with a gasp. “Shit, your mask,” but he is breathing._

_On his own._

_She smiles at the sight, watching his chest rise and fall and she presses her forehead to his sternum, feeling his twin heartbeats and hearing him breathe as tears fill her eyes._

_It’s how the nurses find her two minutes later._

_They call it a miracle._

_And no one notices the bloody jacket or the tear in her shirt in the commotion._

_~*~*~*~_

The day before she is set to leave, she visits one more time. The nurses smile at her as she walks toward them, and whisper behind her back as she passes. _(Poor dear, he’s never going to wake up but she just waits.)_ She ignores them as she breezes into his room, pulling open the curtains and talking as she moves around the room.

“Everything is packed and ready – the team is quite excited. They’re a good group, really. Expeditions get me ridiculously excited, sweetie. I mean, not like _that_ – naughty boy – but…” she moves over to the side of his bed, pulling her journal out and opting to slide up on the bed with him as she leans forward to whisper. “Have you ever stumbled across a discovery – been the first person to see it in ages, or _ever_ – and it just makes you feel tiny and thrilled? I love that feeling,” she confesses as she opens her book and pulls a pencil out of her pocket. She’s not in a mood to write today, so instead she sketches him carefully.

“It’s a bit like the first time you see your face, afterward, you know. Who knows what you’ll look like? I know there’s some level of control, but I’m usually far too busy concentrating on a dress size. That’s terrible of me, isn’t it? Well, no one ever said I was perfect,” she waves a hand as she shades in the angles of his face. “I wonder how many faces you’ve had, sweetie. Have you always been a man? Or this handsome?” she laughs at that as she draws, concentrating for a while.

“Anyway, this excavation is so sought after. Mr. Lux is unsealing an entire _planet_. Only imagine an entire planet of books. Every book – _ever_. I hope we’re there for a while; I could get some reading done. I bet you’re a reader, sweetie. Just think – the Library. Sealed for a hundred years and I get to find out why,” she smiles at her drawing before she glances back up and gasps.

His eyes are open, and he is staring at her, panic on his face as he makes a strangled noise in the back of his throat. She can’t say anything, as if her voice has died, and she beams at him, struggling to find the words. “Blue,” she finally manages to squeak out and he frowns, his mouth still open as if he is on the cusp of saying something. “Your eyes are blue.” He struggles to sit up and she drops her book, reaching forward as he rips the monitoring equipment right off. Alarms blare and suddenly there are about fifteen people in the room, crowding around his bed as she is shoved back.

Her hearts are beating hard, and she waits it all out, simply repeating the word ‘blue’ to herself. After what seems like an age, his doctors explain to her that there is seemingly no explanation. He is given water and told not to attempt to talk until they can be sure his throat isn’t damaged. They scan him instantly and everything is all clear.

“River,” his voice is hoarse and rough from disuse. His accent is unlike anything she’s heard – not since she last visited Earth, forever and an age ago. She smiles at the sound of it – she knew he could hear her. She knew that. His next words surprise her though. “Call the expedition off. You can’t go to that place – that Library. River,” panic seeps into his tone and she frowns, moving to his side and settling there as he grips her hands tightly. “Promise me.”

She nods and he pulls her to him, hugging her tightly. She swears she can feel his tears against her neck, and she rubs circles on his back. The doctors and nurses tacitly leave the room, their footfalls a whisper. “I promise, sweetie,” she soothes him and he hugs her harder in response.

She lies down with him, still holding him, her hands against his skin as he holds her, his shoulders hitching. Eventually he falls asleep, a natural sleep this time. And she knows he must need it, so she keeps his arms around her and doesn’t move.

She slips from his arms close to dawn, to call Mr. Lux and explain. He is livid – but she refuses to budge. She’s not leaving – not now, certainly. When she slips back into the room, he’s out of bed, standing and looking around as if he is lost.

He lights up when he sees her and hugs her to him tightly once more. “I thought you’d left,” his voice sounds better, deeper, and she smiles.

“No, I would never.” She urges him back to the bed, but he balks, pulling her to the chairs by the window instead.  They stare out at the pre-dawn sky, the pinks slowly bleeding into the purples as the stars disappear one by one.

“How did I get here? I don’t remember…” he frowns and she looks at him in worry. “This isn’t my face either,” he presses his hands to his face as he shakes his head. “Well it's my face, but not - nothing’s right.” He muses almost to himself, until he looks up at her and smiles and it is so bright and brilliant, it is utterly breath taking. “Except you, River.” He reaches for her hand and presses a soft kiss to it as she watches.

“I don’t know how you got here.  They said that the TARDIS just showed up – I took a look at her, but they wouldn’t let me have direct access. She looks a little worse for wear. You stumbled out – from what they told me, it sounds like you’d just regenerated. You were – not in good shape. That was five years ago. I found you two years ago – after I was exiled, I thought it was fine, I’d serve my sentence, go back home, you know? But then the Time War happened – oh god, you do know about the Time War right? Gallifrey’s gone, honey,” she speaks gently and his face goes blank, until a frown mars his forehead. “I thought I was the last, until you.”

His eyes snap to hers and he shakes his head. “No. No – you’re not timelord River, you’re human plus,” he stares and she frowns at him.

“I am timelord. Born on Gallifrey – I attended the Academy – what – shush sweetie, talk to me,” his hands were moving rapidly as he grew more and more agitated.

“You know me – you – we’ve met. Byzantium – have we done that yet? Asgard? Where’s your diary?!” his voice is rising and she moves closer, taking his hand in hers.

“Sweetie, calm down. My journal – it’s - it’s – oh it fell. Just a moment,” she leaps up and scrambles over to the bed, picking up the blue book and handing it to him. His mouth drops open in shock.

“River! Spoilers – you can’t just _hand_ it to me!”

“What’s spoilers?” she frowns and his face goes oddly blank as his hands grip the blue book. He opens it, rifling through the pages quickly, his eyes scanning it and reading

“No. No no no no no – River, tell me you know me,” he looks up at her, tears in his eyes as he pleads and she runs a hand over his short hair.

“I’ve been visiting you for two years, honey-”

“My _name_ you know my _name_ ,” he insists and she bites her lip, wishing she knew what to say. “Amy and Rory and Donna – you know them. Utah and the Silence and New York – the Singing Towers – Area 52, _our wedding_ River – tell me – _please_ ,” his voice is ragged and she moves closer, hugging him tightly. He hauls her into his lap, his arms around her as he waits.

“Sweetie – I don’t know what any of that is, I’m sorry,” she whispers, and he looks up at her, tears on his cheeks as he shakes his head. “You’ve been in a coma for five years. We’ve never met.”

“Never?” his whisper is so forlorn, she just wants to cuddle him against her and take away his hurt. “So what was it then? Am I in a parallel universe? Why would I go _back_ to this face though?” His hands run over her in agitation as he stares at her.

“Maybe – I mean – could it have been a dream?” she puts forth the suggestion in a soft voice and his eyes widen.

“No, it felt real. It felt – was it the chameleon arch?”

“Those aren’t even _legal_ ,” she gasps and he stares at her. His hands lift to press against her chest – her hearts and he frowns.

“You have two,” he whispers and she nods. “That’s not the same. You had two but they beat at the same time.”

“That sounds disgusting,” she teases and a ghost of a smile curls the corner of his mouth as he looks back up at her.

“You’ve never _met_ me?”

“No, sweetie. I’ve been dying to, a bit. It’s a bit unfair that you know my name and I don’t-”

“The Doctor,” he responds, cutting her off. “I’m the Doctor.”

“Hello, Doctor,” she smiles, knowing it’s not his real name, but it fits him all the same. “Why do they call you the Doctor?”

“I don’t know.” He answers honestly and she giggles, pressing a hand to the side of his face. “Why’d they call you River?”

“I called me River. No TARDIS you see, so I tend to have to make a life for myself planet-side. Only there’s too many questions when regenerations occur. So I pick a new name, new planet – fresh start.” She explains softly and he nods, turning his face into her palm and pressing a soft kiss there.

“How many?” he asks in a reluctant voice and she smiles.

“Fifth,” she answers promptly. “You?”

“Eleventh-” he stops and shakes his head. “No, ninth. I think – I’m not sure what’s – what’s real and what’s not.”

“Are you linked to your TARDIS, Doctor?” she asks, her fingers trailing along his jaw as he nods. “Maybe she can help?”

_~*~*~*~_

The staff try to stop them, but River simply waves them off and leads him down to the storage facilities. He opens the locker with ease and stands before his ship – a bright blue. “Well she’s certainly prettied herself up since I was down here last,” River observes with a smile and he presses his hands to the doors and grins at her. “Do you have your key, sweetie?” Even though she knows his name, she still feels right calling him that. And judging by his grin he does as well.

“Nope,” he beams and she smile sin confusion. “I’ve got something better.” He lifts his hand and snaps, and the doors fall open.

“Oh, _impressive_ , Doctor. What else have you got to show me?” River laughs as his cheeks go a dull red. He points a finger at her and scowls.

“No. _No_. I do not _blush_ in this incarnation River Song, you stop it.” She smirks at him before waving a hand in front of her, and he steps into the TARDIS ahead of her. She follows after him, just in time to hear him say, “Hello, sexy!”

“Should I be jealous?” she looks around at the room. It is all raised glass floor and white walls – Gallifreyan writing on copper circling the time rotor and warm light bounces off the copper metal all over the ceiling. The floor is very natural, and surrounds the heart of the TARDIS, which glows fiercely. He bounces up the stairs and she follows as he stares at the console. It is encased in more hammered copper, but the console is smooth, sleek and all digital.

“Everything is different,” he speaks aloud and she glances over at him. “I mean, some bits are the same – or like what I saw in my head – but it’s all _different_ too,” he breathes the words out and strokes his hand against the console. He rushes down the stairs, and she follows, finding him knelt by the heart of the TARDIS, his hands pushed into the liquid surrounding the heart and his eyes closed.

She isn’t sure how long it will take, so she leaves him there, closing the doors and piloting them into the vortex. Operating the TARDIS comes back to her with ease – just like riding a bicycle – even though with only her, she has to do quite a bit of running around the console. Once they’re parked, she moves back below stairs, and sits herself in the swing there, swaying back and forth as she waits for him to come back.

It’s a bit of a wait, and she’s stretched out on the floor when he opens his eyes again. She is up in an instant though, at the expression of raw grief on his face. “Doctor, what is it?”

He swallows heavily, and looks at her with fear clouding his eyes. “It wasn’t real,” his voice is rough as he speaks and she wraps her arms around him, rubbing circles on his back. “None of it was real. Rose or Jackie or Martha or Donna – the Ponds, _you_ -”

“Hush now, sweetie. I _am_ real, I’m right here!” She soothes him and he clings to her even as he shakes his head.

“It’s not the same, River. It’s not – you loved me there. You _loved_ me, you were –” he swallows again and buries his face in her shoulder, “ _my wife_ ,” he’s so choked up he barely gets the words out and she makes a soothing noise in the back of her throat.

“I’m still here now, sweetie. And even if it’s not the same – it’s doesn’t mean it will be so vastly different. I’ve waited – two years for you to wake up Doctor. We’re the last of our kind, and-”

“And you’ll hate me when you find out the truth about who I am, River,” he pulls back then, looking at her with eyes that are swimming with pain. She swallows, and looks at him with wide eyes, shaking her head.

“I couldn’t ever – not _ever_ Doctor. I wouldn’t hate you. No matter _what_ you’ve done.”

“It was me,” he sighs the words out as tears roll down his cheek, and she presses her hands against his temples.

“Let me see, sweetie. All of it.” She waits for him to nod, his eyes sliding closed as she slips into his mind, her own eyes dropping shut. His mind is raw, red and angry with pain and she darts in and out of memories – faces – the Time War –

She gasps, but manages to shield him from it as she moves further on, and into his dreams. Hope – such relentless unending _hope_ and guilt and pain and _love_.  She’s vaguely aware at some point of opening the door for him as well, reciprocity – so he might see her as well. When she lets go, he is crying and so is she, but she wipes his tears and cradles his face in her hands. She doesn’t speak – what could she _say_? And instead she leans forward and kisses him. 

He makes a noise of surprise, his hands clutching her waist as his mouth opens under hers and he kisses her back enthusiastically. She moans, her hands running up over his skull, nails dragging through his short hair before they travel down his back. His tongue brushes against hers and she grips his shoulders as she feels a fire run through her – oh _yes_ , she would love this man. This beautiful, tragic, _hopeful_ man.

When they part, she is breathing heavily and so is he. “River?” he looks confused, bless, and she shakes her head.

“You saw? Why I – Why I got exiled?” He nods and she sighs softly. “I forgive you Doctor, because I _know_ what Rassilon was like before his death. The whole council – how _twisted_ -”

“I’m sorry they did that to you River, you didn’t deserve it,” he shakes his head and she laughs brokenly.

“I think high treason _sort_ of deserves it, sweetie.”

“Maybe. But I did that and worse,” his voice is dark and she shakes her head, wrapping her hands around his neck.

“You saved the universe, Doctor. Millions upon millions upon millions would have suffered and died.”

“Now I suffer,” he finishes in a whisper and she laces her hands through his.

“But not alone. Never alone, my love, never again.” He looks at her with hopeful eyes and she smiles, nodding at him.

“You’ll come with me?” She presses a kiss to his mouth once more, soft and sweet. She is smiling when she pulls back, and he looks lighter, though there is no smile on his lips. Not yet.

“To the ends of the universe and back, Doctor, _always_.”

 


End file.
